


SPN Story: Don't mess with me or one of mine

by SpankedbySpike



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Community: spn-spankings, Corporal Punishment, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Spanking, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/pseuds/SpankedbySpike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In season 10, Cole has taken Sam hostage to get to Dean, sadly for him this Dean is demonic and dark...</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPN Story: Don't mess with me or one of mine

**Author's Note:**

> Created for the running challenge at spn-spankings.livejournal.com for Alternate Universes of the Winchester World.

**Implement(s)** : Cane, Strap, Paddle  
 **Type of Spanking** : Punishment  
 _Notes_ : I personally wanted a longer ark of this but the Powers that be made a short work of that Dean... He was intense and on the dark side, so be warned there is no fluff here. Not betaed, so if you notice anything, please don't hesitate to pm me :)  
 **_[Winter 2014 Challeng](http://spn-spankings.livejournal.com/tag/2014%20winter%20challenge)e for Team New World Order - Work_ **

  
_**Don't mess around with me or one of mine by SbS** _

 

Dean had a good day… Driving his baby, high on endorphins, careless and free to enjoy life; Nothing to run from, nothing to fix, nothing to lose. Sure, he was on the twisted side of things, demonically edgy if he said so himself, and yes his little Sasquatch of a brother was still alive and alone out there, so things weren’t exactly perfect but oddly Dean didn’t care. Sam has shown again and again that he was capable, resilient and that bit on the selfish side, he was fine leaving Dean in purgatory, there was no reason to think that he wouldn’t be able to live a full and meaningful life away from his too often co-dependent brother. Dean had no more blinders, he knew he had used his quest, his dad’s quest, his brother as a crutch. Since being posse with Crowley though, he couldn’t seem to muster an ounce of remorse, or fear, he hadn’t second-guessed himself yet and just stopped worrying altogether. Life was really good! 

Of course, Life as usual decided to crash his party. Who the fuck was this puny, useless meat suit that dared to call him from his Sammy’s phone to threaten him? Was he high? He wanted to die? Painfully? Cole? The ass didn’t know that Dean had absolutely no other job now than to make his life a living hell. It will be a 24/7 occupation that he will relish. Dean would be so good at this particular trade, he’d make Azazel and all his tormentors proud, he’d even impress the paper pusher that was Crowley… Not that there is anything wrong with the guy, all organizations need some boring administration, and Dean could respect that, and still dream of eviscerating the human... 

Driving fast, he aimed to get to the next town and research a bit about the guy that dared to call to announce he was holding Sam prisoner and planned on torturing him. Funny how people that can’t take it always believe they are the toughest. What the Winchester family went through is the stuff of legend, Sam can take it, Dean sure as hell can take it, this Cole dude though he is in for an excruciating discovery. 

***

It turned out, he didn’t have to hunt for Cole, the lost puppy got straight to his door… Lead by a clueless Sam! Boy, his brother does deserve a spanking… it’s such a standard from the hunter book he can’t believe his brother felt for it, but that was a physical altercation that could wait for a later day. 

Cole looked good, trained, on the edge, ready. Dean remembered the promises he made him on the phone though. There wasn’t going to be a trade or a meet up, just the 100% guarantee that somewhere down the road he would find him and he will kill him, he hadn’t promised it will be quick!

 

So, he kicked his ass, a fist fight is always good for the soul… and the body. Dean relished the punches he received as one more marvelous proof, he was alive, but all good things have to end and he knocked the wanna be poser, he showed him who the real monster was.

 

Sam, of course wanted to talk, he wanted him back on the road… Been there, done that. Dean had a new job to do: break the little shit that dared... Imprisoning Cole was easy, it’s incredible what normal god fearing people turn a blind eye to, and then there was the supply run… Finally Dean felt ready for the task at hand, punishing Cole and maybe be magnanimous enough to let him live to tell the tale.

 

Dean always cleaned up well. He had enjoyed the charms of his latest conquest, had a great steak dinner last night and a good night of sleep. He felt refreshed when he showed up at work. Crowley minions really had great spaces at their disposition… Airy offices and dark dungeons, elevator music and muffled screams, the essential was all there. Dean still brought his own tools, when you master your trade, you don’t sully the skills with other people's left-overs.

***

Cole was exactly as promised, naked on all four in a cage. And he was fuming! To Dean this was a vision of beauty. The power he held over this man was heady. He crouched in front of the cage…

 

“Cole, we can do this the easy way, you accept your punishment and I will consider if your penance feels real enough to let you go. If I don’t feel it, I made you a promise and I will not mind ending your pathetic life, after prolonged suffering. So, what do you say?” Dean was trying to placate the frightened man.

 

No matter how he ended up in a cage, bested by this murderer and his friends, Cole was certain once free of the confines he could devise a way to escape. So he lowered his eyes, dropped his head between his hunched shoulders and hid the conspicuous grin he was sporting, as soon as he was out of here, there was going to be hell to pay!

 

It could have been possible as the door was unlocked, but his knees couldn’t carry him, his stance was wobbly and then he remembered his nakedness. All of this contributed to the surprising quick new type of bondage he found himself in. Bound tight to a freaking Saint Andrew cross, he yelled at Dean promising death and dismemberment but he was wasting too much energy. The Dean Winchester that bested him couldn’t be heard. The silence became eerie.

 

Dean had tuned Cole out… It wasn’t the first time someone was yelling profanity at him, it wasn’t the first time he was tempted to give him some blue-streak retorts but why bother? He had opened the case he brought and looked thoughtfully at the implements there…  
The thin rattan cane looked so slender that most people would disregard it as inconsequential. In Dean's hands though, it is the perfect way to inflict sharp and vivid pain and set the tone, make sure the person on the receiving end understands he means business… from the get go.

 

This way he doesn’t have to talk, to scold, to think, he just carries on and makes the lesson stick. Cole was running his mouth, he covered every ticking second with insults and threats, fear and anger permeating the air, making everything smell so sweet, Dean clicked his tongue and let the cane swing, smiling at the beautiful blossoming welt appearing on the top of the muscled thighs straining against the bonds, and the howling surprised cry from the captive man. The second blow at the top of the curve of the naked ass, flattening it with the force of the blow, and silencing the prisoner for a blessed half second. Dean wanted to savor the moment, but Cole trashed around pulling on his bonds, intent on escaping the lunatic that thought this was a way to resolve problems between grown men, so he wasn’t ready for the third one that caught him on the calves, and that pain was so sharp tears formed in his screwed eyes. This was too much, too random, too insane.

 

Cole slumped on the cross taking solace in the heavy weight of the structure supporting him. He could prepare for the next hit, he just had to breathe through it, to focus and get centered, if only Dean would give him a minute.

 

Dean wasn’t stupid, he gave him the pause needed and left the room altogether. Finding the cafeteria and ordering his coffee, he had a whole day ahead of him and no other place to go until five… What a grind! As he sipped the last of it, he slowly went back to the allocated room, enjoying the sight of the disciplined man from the open door… Humiliation, just was under-rated but for a man like Cole it was the perfect step in a program meant to break him.

 

Dean didn’t feel like he had to prove anything, so he took the heavy black strap next and went to the side of his victim.

 

“Cole, if you kiss this strap, I will know you regret your harsh decision on torturing my brother and will only give you five of my best with it. Are you willing?” He let the remainder of the sentence die, seeing the determination in the eyes of the young man to fuck him big time. Hey, it was no skin off his back, he walked behind the bound man and lifting the heavy implement high above his shoulder he lashed the meaty part of Cole’s behind, right on top of the tiny welt the cane had left, the boy tried to suppress the painful hiss but just wasn’t ready.

 

The impact had been heavier than he expected and Dean had not held back. The second time Dean hit him with the strap, the end curled around the side of his right buttock and he could feel the pain on his hip bone blossoming, certain to nurture a magnificent bruise later. He had stayed silent here, better prepared to withstand the ache settling on his body. The next time the strap made contact with his shoulder, the throbbing in his head becoming blinding and just growing with a similar hit on his other shoulder. The heavy weight of this strap was incredibly jarring, Cole bit his tongue, a small trickle of blood slowly dripping from his mouth. The strap was like a livewire, making each contact a pure agony, and linking the pain into a type of torture he didn’t expect. And as he thought it would be too much to bear, the punishment stopped.

 

Cole's whole body was trembling and yet he could understand that he wasn’t really that badly hurt. There was some form of restraint in what Dean was doing and a side of him was wondering why the asshole was not fighting him mano a mano instead of using this childish form of discipline. It was such a humiliation, and he couldn’t even imagine going through life knowing how a grown man, at the top of his game, could be corrected in such a way.

 

The whirlwind of his thoughts was interrupted by a sharp pain on his behind. “Fuck, man, stop it!” he yelled, ready to beg for reprieve. It didn’t stop Dean from paddling his behind. It was one of those paddles most fraternities had in college campuses, neither of the men were strangers to its application or the art of yielding it and Cole broke out in sweats, his whole body taught and straining to escape the pain imparted by the random paddling. There was no rhyme nor reason to the way Dean was striking and it was even more upsetting than the pain of the discipline session he was enduring because he could not anticipate the end of his torment.

 

His skin had lost all smoothness, blotched and dark, he was a very inspiring canvas for this Dean. There was no reason to think in terms of completion or learning a lesson. He didn’t see Cole as an equal or as a risk, just as a problem that needed to understand the underground rules and abide by them. His movements were a bit faster now, lifting the buttocks in front of him, forcing the punished man on his toes, hearing the broken sobs partially held in the constricted throat that stopped pleading.

 

This was how Dean wanted to see the ass that threatened his peace, via his brother. He needs Cole to remember that pain, late at night when he was dreaming of revenge, during his lunch breaks when the phantom pain would require him to eat his sandwich standing up, when he held those that were dear to him in his arms and silent tears would fall because he now knew what really lurked in the dark.

 

With one final spank he slowly backed up, committing the image to memory and turning towards the table holding his bag and implements, cleaning them methodically in the charged silence. Once Dean felt everything was back in place, he straightened his tie, dropped the sleeves of his white shirt over his forearms and put on the vest of his suit.

 

With a last stare towards his victim, he added “Cole, you’ll be let go within the hour, if I ever hear from you, see you in the vicinity of my brother, find you on my path, you will be a dead man and everything you held dear will follow suit.”

 

Walking with purpose, he left the building with a few nods to the underlings hard at work, and went for his baby, the ride certain to give him that extra sense of peace and purpose. He now had to have a conversation with his little brother and remind him about personal safety! Just another day at work... Dean smiled.

 

  


**Author's Note:**

> It's been months since I wrote anything, I'd love to hear what some of my readers think of any of my stories, so if you have a moment... please do inspire my muse :)


End file.
